Page 4 of A Holly Jolly Mix Up (Sweet Christmas Kisses #12)

Jane

“We should probably start dinner,” Andrew says as his stomach growls loudly in response. “How do you feel about pasta from scratch?”

“My nonna would say that’s the only kind to make,” I tell him, breaking into a huge smile. “She always said to never depend on that store-bought imposter stuff.”

Andrew chuckles. “I think my meemaw would have been best friends with your nonna,” he says. “I also was taught the importance of homemade. I have the machine back home that flattens and makes the perfect size and length, but we’ll have to go old-fashioned here.”

“Let’s do it!”

We both launch in unison off the floor. I stumble a bit as I stand. Andrew reaches his arms out to steady me. Our eyes meet, and I feel the electricity sizzle along my nerve endings .

“Are you okay?” Andrew asks, genuine concern lacing his voice. His hands still linger on my shoulders.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and my breath hitches. “I’m fine.” I swallow hard.

I’m certainly anything but fine.

Angus jumps from the couch directly at us, causing us to step back in surprise. Andrew catches him and starts rubbing him, whispering something about interrupting.

I take the interruption and head for the kitchen, working to get my emotions in check.

I haven’t been single for long, and maybe the magical holiday season has gotten the better of me.

I just called off my engagement and impending wedding a few days ago.

Even though I’m drawn to him in ways I never have been with anyone else, Andrew and I simply can’t happen.

Reality will impose itself once the storm stops brewing outside.

He’ll go back to his busy detective life, and I’ll go back to chasing the next story.

“I think Angus has his fill of love for now. Puppies are so needy,” Andrew says, coming up behind me. “I’ll grab the eggs.”

“I’ve got the flour and salt.” We move in unison to gather ingredients to the counter. “Did your meemaw teach you how to cook? ”

“Yes, she was a wonderful woman. When I was growing up, she’d pull me into the kitchen when she was cooking. She died about three years ago, but I learned a lot from her,” he offers up. “What about Nonna?”

“She lives with my parents now. I don’t get home as often as I should, but she is as fiery as ever.

Last year she gave me a recipe book where she put little notes about how I could tweak every recipe to make it better.

There is not an opinion she won’t express.

There isn’t anything I’ve written that she hasn’t edited.

She speaks her mind and has strong opinions.

I love her tenacity.” I laugh thinking about the precious but strong minded old lady.

“I get that,” Andrew says. “If Meemaw said something, not a soul would disagree with her. Maybe it was respect, but the fear I saw in my father’s eyes when he considered defying her tells me that it wouldn’t have been worth it. So no one challenged her.”

“Exactly. I hope someday to strike that sort of unrepentant love and worship into the hearts of my offspring,” I laugh.

“One can only hope,” Andrew replies and laughs with me.

Sharing stories of our grandmas with strong personalities is just another thing we have in common. The powwow I had with myself five minutes ago? Yep, it’s completely out the window. And the smile on my face? I’m pretty sure it’s permanent. It won’t hurt just enjoying this time with him…right?

“So what brought you here?” Andrew asks, cracking an egg into the flour well we created on the counter.

“To Silver Valley?”

“Yeah, is it a simple getaway or did you come here for a more specific reason? Like a break from the hustle?”

“A little bit of both. My job is demanding, to put it lightly. A little breather is nice…but it’s more personal drama I’m escaping from than anything.”

“Personal drama?” Andrew raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, you know…the kind that involves broken engagements and still going on the honeymoon.” I shrug, trying to play it off casually as I knead the dough. There’s something calming about the rhythm of shaping the dough in my hands.

“Oh, I see.” He’s silent for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, it was initially my decision. We parted ways amicably,” I explain, dusting my hands with flour. “Sometimes you realize that what seems perfect is actually just…pretty.”

“Pretty?” Andrew echoes, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement .

“Yeah. It’s like…when you see a cake in a bakery window. It looks so perfect and delicious that you have no choice but to buy it. But then when you take a bite, you find out that it’s just pretty. There’s no flavor, no substance to it.”

Andrew chuckles at my comparison, dimples carving into his cheeks as he does. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“Well, I am a journalist. I have to write creatively,” I counter playfully, earning another chuckle from him. “Nonna actually helped me realize it.”

“She speaks her mind.”

I nod. “We were on one of our phone calls where we catch each other up on everything that happened that week. She asked me about Daniel, like she always does, and I guess she didn’t like the response. Then she told me a story about her and Nonno.” I pause, thinking about what she said.

Andrew’s voice softens. “What was the story?”

I pause, kneading the dough rhythmically.

“She talked about how she and Nonno were strolling along the banks of their hometown river when they were teenagers. How he told her he loved her for the first time. The way she described it…the passion in his expression, the conviction in his words. I realized that I was settling for a ‘pretty’ relationship. ”

Andrew is silent as he watches me. The intensity of his gaze makes my cheeks heat up.

“And so you ended it with him?” he, finally, asks.

I nod in affirmation. “Yep, and then took this reservation that was supposed to be our honeymoon. Figured I could use a solitary vacation.”

“Sounds like an act of courage to me.” His comment surprises me. My eyes meet his bright and encouraging gaze.

I shrug modestly, feeling shy suddenly. “Maybe. But it’s also slightly terrifying.”

“Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you do it anyway.” A knowing glint in his eyes makes me wonder about the trials he’s faced in his life. They say being a detective carries its own set of burdens.

“And what about you? Why Silver Valley?” I sigh, feeling lighter than I have in a while.

“Me?” Andrew seems taken aback by my question, rubbing his neck, leaving a trail of flour.

“Well, I guess my reasons are a little less daring than yours.” His voice is cloaked with an easy humor, but there’s a flicker of something deeper.

“I had a tough case a few years back, and the anniversary of it was last week. We solved the case, but that family is forever changed. It was a tough one. So every year, I take some time off, try to relax, and find some solitude. For all the good we do, sometimes the darkness sticks with you.”

I lay my floured hand on his arm. “That’s not an easy job to do, Andrew. But it’s important work,” I say softly. His gaze snaps to me, and he smiles, a little wistfully.

“It is,” he agrees. “But so is what you do. You tell people’s stories, and that matters just as much.”

My heart beats a little faster, and I feel an unexpected warmth spreading through me.

Andrew’s hand covers mine on his arm, and the touch is both comforting and electrifying.

His eyes warm as he looks at me, a clear appreciation in them.

For the first time, I feel seen in ways that are entirely new and completely terrifying.

By the time we are done with cooking and cleaning, it’s pretty late.

We sit by the fire with mugs of hot cocoa laced with marshmallows.

We’re both reading a book on opposite sides of the couch, and Angus snuggles next to Andrew.

The flames flicker, casting dancing shadows around the room while outside, the snow falls gently against the window panes.

I wake to Angus licking my face. “Ew, Angus. Quit it!” I sit up, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

“Angus, be nice.” Andrew’s voice comes from the kitchen. “Sorry, I just brought him in from outside, and he rushed over to you. ”

I chuckle, rubbing my eyes. “That’s okay…I guess I fell asleep reading?” I question, absolutely embarrassed for doing so.

“I did too. Angus woke me up the same way to let me know he needed to go outside.”

“I was right. He is a menace.” We both chuckle.

“I’m going to start on breakfast. Any special request?”

“I’ll take an omelet special and pancakes with fruit and homemade whipped cream. Oh! And I’d like a caramel macchiato.” I get up from the couch to see Andrew standing there with an amused grin.

“Someone is a little demanding this morning, aren’t they?” Andrew chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hey, you asked!” I lift my hands in the air, walking towards the kitchen. “And besides, if you’re asking me to put my trust in your cooking skills, then I have the right to be demanding.”

“I haven’t heard any complaints about my cooking since you’ve been here. Your logic is flawed,” Andrew says with an exaggerated sigh. “But let’s get one thing straight: I am not your personal chef.”

His phone dings, and he grabs it from his pocket.

“We have cell service?” I ask .

“Guess we do now. Looks like it’s the owner.” He looks up at me. “I sent an email the first night, and it must have gone through whenever the service came back on.”

“Is it good news?”

“Well, that depends. How do you like sharing a cabin?”

I feel all the color leave my face, and my grin sinks into a frown.

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this time with Andrew.

I wouldn’t consider us strangers anymore, but my worry is continued exposure to him.

I’ll already be leaving this vacation nursing a full-blown crush.

What will happen if we spend the next two days together?

I’m hoping the owner has realized their mistake and found one of us a new place to stay for the remainder of our trip.

But that thought also makes my heart ache.

“They can’t find an opening anywhere?”

Andrew shakes his head. “With ski season in full gear, it’s going to be tough to find anywhere else. He is offering to refund half to each of us.”

“What do you think?” I question, wondering how he feels staying here even longer with me.

“Well, I doubt they’ve had time to plow the roads so I don’t think we have much choice. But after breakfast, I can go check it out.”

I nod.

“I guess you’re not the worst person to be stuck here with.” A small smile plays on his lips.

“Just for that, you are my personal chef this morning. I’m expecting that caramel macchiato when I get back.” I smirk and turn around, leaving the kitchen.